Between fear and hope: Iranians explain how they are experiencing the attack

Aryan was euphoric when Israel and the United States began bombing Tehran, his hometown. He was convinced he was witnessing the end of nearly five decades of the ayatollahs' regime. A week after the start of the war, however, he saw the sky light up at midnight from a fierce bombardment and dawn darken with the black smoke that choked the Iranian capital. "They bombed everywhere. Night turned into morning, and morning into night," says the 33-year-old, who, like everyone interviewed by the New York TimesHe asked not to be identified by his full name for fear of reprisals. "People have lost confidence," he confesses.

The more than 90 million inhabitants of Iran are caught between two terrifying realities. On one side, the American and Israeli leaders, whose bombs are increasingly devastating the infrastructure of the Persian country, are urging them to seize this opportunity to take to the streets and overthrow the ayatollahs' regime. On the other, the Iranian rulers, determined to cling to power, have threatened more bloodshed if the people dare to answer this call.

Contradictions

When US and Israeli forces began bombing Tehran on February 28, President Donald Trump assured Iranians that freedom was "near." However, a week later, Trump announced his desire to participate in the election of Iran's new supreme leader, who would be part of the same authoritarian system against which he had urged Iranians to rise up. Meanwhile, last Thursday, on state television, a Revolutionary Guard commander warned that any potential protesters would be considered agents of Israel. "The order to shoot to kill has been issued," he declared.

In the wake of the war, Asoo, a Persian-language publishing house, has invited Tehran residents to submit anonymous notes expressing their feelings. Often, the notes are a mixture of hope that the chaos might lead to the overthrow of the ayatollahs' regime and despair at the destruction wrought by the bombing. "We live between fear and hope, but my fears are greater than my hopes right now," admitted one of those who wrote a note.

For days, US and Israeli airstrikes struck military, police, and intelligence installations across the country. Yet there is no clear indication of a collapse of the regime's deeply entrenched and ideologically driven security forces. Many residents describe seeing Basij—plainclothes members of the Revolutionary Guard-linked militia—roaming the streets on motorcycles, shouting religious slogans as they pass.

Intelligence services also continue to monitor any attempts at dissent. For example, Farzad, who lives in a particularly tall building in Tehran, explains that many of his neighbors loudly celebrated the death of Ayatollah Khamenei from their balconies. Days later, the building manager warned them that security services would search their apartments if they celebrated again.

Threatening messages

Likewise, checkpoints have proliferated throughout the city, and the mobile phones of many Iranians have been flooded with messages from the regime urging them to join pro-government demonstrations and to report anyone taking photographs. Other messages are outright threats: "Any movement that disrupts security will be considered direct cooperation with the enemy."

Most Iranians do not have internet access, and some confess that it is utter madness not having any news of what is really happening. Amir Hossein Bagheri, an Iranian engineer, wrote on his Facebook page that he distrusts both state and foreign media because they rarely report how deadly and terrifying the war is for civilians.

The recent attacks have further exacerbated that mistrust. Over the past few days, bombings have blown up fuel depots, and oily smoke and black rain have blanketed Tehran. The attacks have also destroyed a desalination plant, and Iranians will soon face water shortages. U.S. Central Command on Sunday urged residents of the capital to stay indoors for their safety and warned that it would attack Iranian forces even if they were in civilian areas.

Kazem, who runs a shop in Tehran's bazaar, says he saw dozens of drivers turn around on a highway and start driving the wrong way when they saw a traffic jam. The backup was caused by a checkpoint, not an attack, but "people were terrified, they thought bombs were about to fall."

Too high a price to pay

Some Iranians still hope the war will bring down the ayatollahs' regime, particularly in Iranian Kurdistan, where Kurds have long faced discrimination and where some militant groups have expressed a willingness to launch an insurrection. Omid, 28, an artist living in Kurdistan, admits he is "happy" about the attacks on government infrastructure, as long as they don't affect civilians. "Freedom comes at a price, and it's a price that must be paid," he adds. For Peyman, however, a digital entrepreneur living in Tehran, the price they are already paying is too high. He wonders how they will be able to go on with their lives if everything is destroyed. "We need police. We need intelligence services. We need universities. If we are to live in Iran in the future, regardless of the government we have, we will need institutions." When the war began, Peyman thought there would be collaboration between the US and Israeli militaries and the Iranian protesters on the ground, just as Moscow and Washington collaborated against Nazi Germany in World War II. "But that hasn't been the case. The US and Israel aren't collaborating with us. They're just leaving Iran in ruins," he laments.

Copyright New York Times